Let Me Love You
by You-drive-me-nuts-miller
Summary: From this prompt: Killian finds Emma mad and packing to leave for New York... Angst and Smut entails from there... and of course she was going to stay! Perhaps after Neal's death…


From this prompt: Killian finds Emma mad and packing to leave for New York... Angst and Smut entails from there... and of course she was going to stay! Perhaps after Neal's death…

* * *

"Swan!"

Bursting into the room, he quickly saw the bag on the bed and the figure of Emma Swan standing over it pushing handfuls of clothing inside.

"Emma,"he said - this time more softly, a pleading lilt to his voice. But she didn't look up or even pause, instead she continued her task unperturbed.

"Swan, stop, look at me-"

With every word he advanced a further pace until he was within reach of her. Quickly grasping her upper arm, he tugged her until that she spun to face him.

"Look at me,"he begged.

After a few seconds pause, she tilted up her head. Her cheeks were mottled pink and white: the tears that silently ran down them staining the soft skin in their wake. Her sea green eyes were glassy - the light from the bedside table cast over them glossy flashes which contrasted sharply with their tired, pinkish outline.

A lump formed in his throat. He released her arm and reached up to touch her face.

"No,"she whispered, shrugging away from his impending embrace, turning her back to him.

Hesitating, he watched her shoulders shake gently while one hand reached up and wiped her face. His hand hovered inches from her back: so desperately he wanted to touch her, soothe her.

"Please go,"she asked, sucking back a sob as she pressed on the bag with her palm and tried to close the zipper.

"You don't have to do this,"he said softly. Gently, he placed his hand in the center of her back. Instantly she froze. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her soft hair skimmed his hand and he lifted his hook to push it over her shoulder.

He took a step closer and felt her shiver.

"Yes I do,"she whispered. "Henry doesn't deserve this. He deserves a normal life, the chance to make his own path." His breath - warm and moist - danced over her neck and she paused for a brief second.

Wrestling with the closure, she leaned forward until his hand was left in midair. She tugged violently a few times until the fob of the zipper came away in her hand with a soft 'clink'.

"Fuck it,"she spat, tossing the broken item away towards the window.

Suddenly she spun on her heels and sunk to the bed, burying her face in her hands, the tears of a few minutes ago returning with a vengeance. Killian watched her. He could feel the pain emanating from her - she was unsure, hesitant, _scared._

"Does your son not deserve a family? People who love him?"

"_I _love him,"she retorted angrily, raising her head - eyes now blazing - and meeting him in a hot stare.

"Of course you do, love,"he gave her a small lopsided smile. He'd never seen her look so vulnerable. It was hard to reconcile this fragile, shaking girl with the strong, confident woman who battled magical creatures and beasts on a regular basis. "But you don't have to do all this alone. You have people who care about you-"

"Henry doesn't remember any of this-"Pausing she raised both her arms in frustration, "Who am I to take him away from the only life he has known and make him live like in this world? I want him to have a choice - to have the chances _I _didn't in life."

The tears were subsiding now and being slowly replaced by a burning ferocity - the response of a mother who knew what was best for her son.

Killian slipped his thumb into his belt and lifted up his hook to scratch his light beard. He rolled his tongue across his lip and and softly clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"What?"she snapped.

"You,"he replied, inching closer, searching her face, "You're not who I thought you were."

"Are you mocking me?"she cried, her voice raising in pitch with every syllable.

Sighing, he tilted his head to one side and raised a brow in that annoyingly cocky way of his that had Emma struggling between wanting to hit him or kiss him. "Don't take this the wrong way, love, but you are more selfish than I realised. You have all these people here who care deeply about you and Henry- who _love _you both. But you're too damned scared to take a leap of faith and live the life you are destined to live. You're a bloody princess love, you can't change that."

He was annoyed now.

Annoyed with how easily she affected him.

Annoyed at her for making him feel this way.

But mostly annoyed at himself for falling for her so hard that the thought of her leaving, again, made his heart feel hollow and empty.

He could feel the loss of control that was happening: it was like some essence was slowly draining from his body - taking away his mask of restraint and replacing it with raw, cool emotion. Giving her a sideways glance, he stepped away from the bed and towards the window.

It took a moment for his words to register. First her jaw dropped a little, her fists then clenched before the rest mist of rage descended.

"How dare you! How dare you!," she screamed. A flush of heat rose over her chest and cheeks and she felt like she was aflame, "How dare you call me selfish! How dare you, of all people, lecture me on being true to myself, Killian Jones. Or is it Captain Hook? I'm never quite sure." She knew she'd hid a nerve when she saw his shoulders slouch. She felt a small tinge of victory wash over her, puffing out her chest, before she was deflated again. The memory of his words still stung.

"I've always accepted who I am, Emma. I cannot change my past," he turned his shoulder and raised his left-hooked hand to her eye-line. "Unlike you, I have made peace with my own history."

'Yeah?" she goaded, "But who are you _now_? A pirate? Something else? Because I really can never tell."

The two stared at each other. The space between them felt like a chasm, although it was only a few feet. The air was thick with tension that pushed outwards and made it hard to breathe. All she could see were his steely blue eyes. Those eyes she had searched a dozen times before and every time she had known he spoke the truth. And now she couldn't deny it: he believed what he said.

Yet she didn't know who she was - what she was - any more.

He held his breath as a thousand thoughts flooded his brain. He watched her eyes flicker and narrow and the way she gently bit her lip. She was in pain and he was part of the reason. His chest ached and he dipped his head.

"I'm sorry - I didn't-" he began, softly sighing.

A heavy silence fell. The only sound was their breathing - rhythmic and in time - and the gentle ticking of the clock that hung beside the door.

"It's fine. Forget about it."

"No, I am sorry Swan. I had no right-" he began. He squeezed his eyes shut until the skin puckered gently at the edges, "Everything I've done for hundreds of years has been motivated by one thing - _love._ Love of my king, my brother, my Milah…" his voice trailed of as a stab of painful memory pierced his heart.

"And now?"

"And now…" he echoed, that little wry smile curling the edges of his lips, "And now I've found love again. But I fear it may be hopeless and I will end up losing my heart once more. And I'm scared what will become of me. I am the selfish one."

Emma began to shake. Honesty seemed to radiate from ever word - each one hitting her like a dart of truthfulness.

If _she_ were truly honest, she _knew_ he loved her. Hell, she'd known for quite some time. But knowing it and being faced with the reality of it placed in her path were too different things. "Killian I…" she let out a deep breath and folded her arms, "I can't save you. I'm done being the savior. I can't spend my life fixing other peoples problems and curses and-"

Before she could finish he had pulled her into his arms. His hooked hand was around her waist, his fingers dug into her hair at the base of her neck.

"You misunderstand, love." Quickly, he dampened his lips, his eyes darting briefly to her mouth before returning to meet hers.

"How?" she replied in a soft breath.

"I don't want you to save me, Emma. I want to save you."

She gasped, her lips parted, her head rolled back slightly so she could see him a little better. His jaw looked even sharper from this angle and his dark hair and stubble contrasted with the softly colored walls of the room. He seemed unreal - this moment seemed unreal.

He pressed his body a little tighter against hers.

"I want to _love_ you Emma, if you'd let me. I want to take care of you, give you everything you could ever want that is within my power. I want to give you my life because since I met you, I've realized I do have something to live for. You."

His words were no surprise, because she already knew. She had buried this knowledge deep with herself. She knew it and she had tried to pretend it wasn't true because-

"You can't do that. You can't put that pressure on me."

He circled his fingers in her hair, the tips massaging her scalp and her eyes sank shut in pleasure.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, love. I'm just trying to make you understand that you have more than one option. You don't have to run. You could stay. With me."

Words of protest choked in her throat. The curve of his hook pressed into her back until their hips were flush and she wanted to laugh. Here she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, in a made up town, populated by fairy tale characters, wrapped in the arms of Captain goddamn Hook.

"How would that work?" she began, her lips felt almost numb as they fumbled over the words, "We're from different worlds and-"

His forehead fell against hers and the heat from his body began to wrap around her; the scent of him saturating her skin. It was warm and musky and masculine. "You forget, love, we understand each other. We're more alike than you'd care to admit."

The protestations she had prepared in her mind started to fade away as the truth of his words hit home. He was right. She knew it, she had told him as much herself. Two sides of the same coin, souls tainted by loss and longing…

Then his lips were on her. So soft yet demanding, he teased hers apart with his tongue and plunged them into a deep, all enveloping kiss.

Gasping back, she sucked in a deep breath - "But what if this doesn't work?"

"It will," he smiled, moving his lips down her neck.

She grabbed a tuft of his thick dark hair and yanked his head backwards. "You're awfully confident pirate."

"If there is one thing I know, Emma, it's love."And somehow he was kissing her again.

Her mind became a blank, white space. A gentle buzzing arose in her ears. She reached up and grasped the thick, soft leather of his collar and pulled herself onto her toes so she could press further into the kiss. A heat radiated between them - warm and sweet. It was a familiar feeling, one she hadn't felt for so long that it took her a few moments to register what it was.

_Love._

In his arms she bent and curved her body to him. He wanted to taste her, he wanted to memorize this moment, to take a mental picture of the way her skin felt and the scent of her hair.

Pausing over her lips, he had to ask- "So you'll stay?"

She traced her mouth over his cheek. He tasted slightly salty and his stubble scratched her lips. It felt good and real and _exciting _all at the same time.

_Like home._

She should say she needed to think, to consider, but instead-

"Yes."

With his thumb, he tilted her head to his.

Hell she was a beautiful woman. And headstrong and defiant and reckless. And that's why he loved her.

"You're an amazing woman, Emma Swan."

"You're not so bad yourself…" she trailed off, not sure what to call him.

"Killian," he answered.

"Killian," she whispered, tugging him closer again and quickly claiming his mouth.

**So this was supposed to be smut but then I kinda wrote this - would you like to see the next smutty bit or not?**


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